Dangerous Animal
by crashmypartyhard
Summary: She's the girl next door. Hair the gingerest of ginger. Possible cross between a Rocker and a Hipster. Rodrick has only seen her through glances out his attic view-but when he visits her, he comes to find that she might not be just the girl next door...but a possible friend. (Rodrick x OC) Title inspired by the song "Dangerous Animal" by Arctic Monkeys.
1. Welcome, Welcome

She's the new girl next door. Hair cut into a neat bob, hair color the gingerest of ginger. Pale face scattered with freckles. You could almost say she's petite. She dresses nice. Scarves and jeans are her daily attire, and it seems she has an endless amount of band t-shirts. It's almost like she's a cross between a Rocker and a Hipster. And no, I don't know her name. I know I should, but I've only seen her through glances out my attic view to the light teal of the house next to us as I've watched them move in.

She's the new girl next door, and Mom and Dad have dragged me, Greg, and Manny to her house and now we're all standing there awkwardly in front of it. From a look inside, the place is full of boxes. I really want to go home but then again I feel curiosity-it tugs at me and I try to push it away, try to keep my "I don't give a _bother_ about what's going on right now" face on.

I sigh loud enough for Mom to hear, waiting for a reaction so I can amuse myself.

She glances back at me with a slightly annoyed look. I know she's trying to seem nice for the _neighbors_. "Rodrick Heffley, you will be quiet until our new neighbors come to greet us." She forces a smile, and I smirk inwardly, knowing she's going to try and rid of me the moment she can. "Let's try and get along, _okay_?"

"Mom, I was having a fine time in my room when you interrupted me." I say flatly, shoving my hands in my pockets and tilting my head slightly to the side and slouching. I'm definitely getting tired of standing.

She raises an eyebrow. "On the _internet?_"

"Yes, on the _internet_." I snap back, shoving my hands in my pockets. _It's Tumblr mom—God, you don't know _anything, _do you?_ I'm sweating out here in this goddamned summer heat—come _on_, new neighbors, don't keep me waiting out here or I might melt or die of boredom…

As if on cue, the door opens and a male ginger opens it. I see a ginger woman unpacking kitchen utensil in the background. _So that's why her hair is that shade of ginger._ He smiles wide. "Hello! You must be our neighbors…come on in."

I walk in first, and Mom gives me this look when we're inside that says, "_You're being _rude, _Rodrick._" I give her a smirk and she just rolls her eyes and thins her lips, looking back to the ginger male. I look over at Dad and he gives me the same look, except it adds, "_Be nice or you're grounded,_" so I raise my eyebrows and a sassy look that says, "_Okay, okay!_"

The male holds out his hand to Mom, introducing himself. "I'm Fred Cohen." When he gets to my brothers he just like, ruffles their hair. I smirk at Greg, and he looks at me with his little middle-school p'd-off look.

I look up (or a little down) at Fred and hold out my hand, shaking his. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Cohen." I say in my most fake-but-sincere voice. When he turns to introduce the other woman, I look over at Mom and Dad to see they're both giving me their most popular look: "_Are you kidding me?_"

"This is my wife, Madison." He introduces her and she only shakes Mom and Dad's hands, thankfully. Greg looks bored out of his mind while Manny is comfortably propped on Mom's hip and oblivious to everything around him right now—too concentrated with sucking his thumb.

After about, well, two minutes of parents monotonously talking with each other ("Oh, sorry it's such a mess in here." "Oh, it's no problem!" fucking _kill me now_) I sigh loudly. In Rodrick-Latin that means "_get me the hell out of here or I will have to fight with Greg and I know you don't want that happening._"

Mom tries keeping her composure, looking over at me. I swear I can see flames behind her eyes. She looks to Fred and Madison. "You do have a daughter right? Would it be alright if my son went up and met her? She looks his age."

Fred laughs. "That would be fine."

_Hell yes._ I'm up the stairs before I can hear more of their conversation. I hear a chorus of laughter and I look back over my shoulder, rolling my eyes and sighing. _Why are parents like, destined to be weird?_

I search the upstairs for a while and see nothing that looks like a room of an adolescent girl, but I hear the noise of music. After a while I follow it up another set of stairs and then I'm in an attic that's almost identical to my own. I look at the walls lining the stairs and posters are already taped up (_Nirvana, Radiohead, Coldplay, _and then other bands I haven't heard of like _The Vaccines, Band of Skulls, and the Arctic Monkeys_) as I make my way up them.

I emerge in a wood-coated room with a bed shoved up right against the rails keeping you from falling headfirst into the staircase, and more posters on the walls (_Cage The Elephant, Death Cab For Cutie, Grouplove, Lana Del Rey, Modest Mouse…_). Other than that there's a mannequin (_wait, what?_) and boxes and the ginger girl.

Right now I don't know what's playing, but I like it. I look around for the source of the music and find it next to her bed—it's an old iPod Touch, and it sits in a portable dock—this iPod doesn't even have a _camera _it's so old—and I see that The Black Keys are playing "Little Black Submarines".

When I look back up, the ginger girl is pulling out records from a plastic container. She's taking some out and then she moves over to one wall and starts nailing some plastic stands to the wall. She sets the records inside them one by one. As I look at them, there are a lot of older ones-"Grease" makes an appearance, as well as Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. When she pulls out a CD of Nirvana's _Utero _and _Nevermind, _I know this girl has a good taste in music. She likes the music I like, anyway.

"Hey." I say. Her head snaps over to me, and I notice that her hair has those been-in-a-braid waves. She wears a Nirvana t-shirt and yellow jeans that match the logo.

She raises an eyebrow. "Hi." She says.

* * *

There is a strange boy in my room. Should I be fine with this? Maybe, um, excited? No-what I should be asking is, _what the fuck?_

Definite Rocker. The hair says it all, and the black t-shirt and black Vans and blue jeans. It says it all. Wait—what does the shirt say? _Löded Diper?_

He shrugs up his shoulders and takes one hand out of his pockets and points vaguely towards the wall behind him. "I'm, um, your neighbor. Your parents and my parents are talking downstairs."

I smile and look slightly apologetic. "Oh." I give him a look that says "_oh my God I'm so sorry, are you emotionally scarred?"_

"Yeah." He gives back a look that says "_maybe just a little._"

I tuck the album I'm holding underneath my arm and hold out my other hand. "I'm Aberdeen."

He reaches out and shakes it lazily. "Rodrick. …Heffley. Rodrick Heffley." He stumbles over his words.

I give him some sort of smirk and he tilts his head forward, hiding some of his face behind his bangs. "So. How's…unpacking?"

I shrug and finish putting up the record. "Pretty good. I just need to find a shirt or something for this crazy girl with no nipples." I jab a thumb back at my mannequin (I found her in our old attic and I decided to keep it—enough said).

"You know, if you like records, you can go to the record store in town." Rodrick says. He's moved closer and is now leaning against the wall.

I stand up with a handful of clothes and look at him with eyebrows raised. "There's a record store? What's it called?"

"I don't know."

"What? Wait, you've been there, right?"

He looks at me weird and then waves his hands. "No, I mean the place is called 'I Don't Know'. I Don't Know Records." He laughs.

I sigh. "It would be easier, _Rodrick Heffley_, if you actually _told _people these things. We can't read your mind."

"It would be easier, _Aberdeen Cohen_, if you wouldn't complain about it."

I raise my chin slightly and look at him with a soft smile. "Touché." He smiles back, meaning he's either starting to like me or pretending to start to like me.

I walk past him and set all the clothes in my hands on my bed. On about the second or third trip to my bed I can feel his stare in the back of my head when he says, "Need any help with that?"

I glance over and put my hands on my hips. "What do _you_ think?"

He raises his hands in surrender, but with a cocky smile. "Fine, I'll do as you say." He bows dramatically, but when he walks over to the box he mumbles, "Who knows how long our parents are going to take…"

Rodrick lifts the box with a grunt and walks over, raising his eyebrows as if saying, "_Cool, right?_" before setting my clothes on my bed. I roll my eyes, but our gazes lock for a moment before I hear the slap of shoes coming up my stairs, and then there's a middle-school-aged boy in my room.

Rodrick's the first to look over and groans.

"Greg. Get… _Out._"


	2. Around My Head

"Greg. Get…_Out_." I stare daggers and take a threatening step towards him. He takes a small step back but otherwise stays in the room. He looks over at Aberdeen and then back to me.

"Why? Mom and Dad are boring." Greg crosses his arms and pouts.

She waves a hand at him. "He can stay if he wants." As she walks past him she ruffles his hair and he smiles, looking over at me. I give him another threatening look and it drops.

Aberdeen walks over and opens a different box, digging through it before finding a gigantic shirt that says "SUCK IT AND SEE" and walks over to her mannequin, popping off its arms and putting the shirt on it.

As she's putting the arms back onto it I crouch down to Greg's size and say very quickly, "Don't you dare make her want to never see us again or I'll punch you so hard you'll fly through time to 2024."

When she looks back over I pull Greg towards me in a headlock and mess up his hair with my knuckles. I give her a big smile.

* * *

I wake up the next day sideways in my bed, one drumstick in my hand, the other probably tangled in my sheets somewhere. My stomach's empty and I'm still tired. It looks like about the time I get up, though, so I eventually do.

First I dig through my pile of clothes, finding a shirt and pair of pants I think are clean and putting them on. I take my morning pee. I check my hair in the mirror and don't do anything with it.

Normal day.

But Aberdeen's on my mind. Why is she on my mind?

_Aberdeen. Just like the Cage The Elephant song._ Oh, yeah. That's right. I'll just use that as an excuse because, frankly, why would I be wondering about this girl?

But then I think of her collection of records and I want to see more. Her taste is so similar to mine I have to wonder about what else she can expose me to. What other bands does she like? Would…would she possibly be interested in _Löded Diper_?

I walk down the stairs with a straight face, but my mind is whirring. I don't say anything to Mom or Dad, just make four pieces of toast and hole myself up in my room again.

I look out my window to next door. Aberdeen's parents are still moving things from the moving van to inside the house. I see movement in one of the windows and see it's her—she's moving around and also still unpacking. I take another bite of my toast and then the idea comes to me that I could help her unpack. I could see more of the music she likes if I help her unpack. I can know if she would want to listen to _Löded Diper_ if I help her unpack.

I should help her unpack.

* * *

"_Blue jeans, white shirt; walked into the room you know you made my eyes burn; it was like, James Dean, for sure…"_

Lana Del Rey sings about love and I think about sleeping. I lie on my bed and stare at everything I have left to unpack and sigh loudly—_Why do I have so much…stuff?_

I slide lazily off of my bed and onto the floor, rolling over from my stomach to my back and then staring at the ceiling for a moment before I block it out with the inside of my arm. I doze, and then am awakened when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

I don't move an inch—I continue to lie there, assuming it is my dad and hoping he'll go away. But the footsteps come into the room and then I hear noise beside me; noise of someone lying next to me.

I lift my arm up and off my face out of curiosity to find it's the boy from next door. Rodrick Heffley. He lays there, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He hears me move and after a few seconds glances over.

"I see you let yourself in." I say. I lay my hands on my stomach, then looking down and picking off some fuzz. "What brings you here?"

Rodrick shrugs. "Thought you'd need some help."

I look at him and raise my eyebrows. "And that's the real reason."

"Well, if I were on Tumblr all day then Mom would've bothered me." He almost mumbles when he replies.

I look up at the ceiling. The song changes, and then it's "Dangerous Animals" by Arctic Monkeys.

"Alright."

* * *

"So, what can I do?" Aberdeen shrugs, thinking. I listen to the song that's playing, and smile. _I like this._ "Wait—before you answer that, what song is this?"

"'Dangerous Animals' by the Arctic Monkeys." She answers. She smirks. "You like it, don't you? You seem like the type to like it." She stands, cracking her neck and back.

"Yeah. You don't really seem like a person to like this kind of stuff. Rock and stuff, you know? You seem more of a Hipster."

"Oh, I like that type of music too. I guess I'm just a mix of both." She starts going down the stairs and I begin to follow. "Are you strong enough to help me carry a bookshelf up the stairs?"

"Totally."

* * *

Rodrick lifts up the bookshelf on my count of three and I'm the one going backwards up the stairs, while he holds it up on the other end. He seems more capable at this than I am—I don't usually work out. I walk a lot, but I've never really been a fan of exercise in general. I don't understand how people can commit themselves to exercising like a ritual.

While I'm trying to adjust my hand for a better and more comfortable grip, that end of the bookshelf slips from my hand, and then while trying to grab it again it slips again, cutting my right hand. I flail, backing up. Rodrick loses his grip as well and then a large crash echoes through the whole house and, seemingly, the whole neighborhood. Rodrick falls back but catches himself, clutching the railing and watching as the bookshelf slides down the stairs and makes a loud _thunk_ when it hits the floor at the end of the stairs.

We both stare at it for a moment.

"Oh." Remarks Rodrick.

"…Oops." I say. He looks back at me and I raise my eyebrows.

"Um," he begins, and I see he's looking at my hand, and I look down at it. "You're bleeding." He says.

"Oh."

I make my way down the stairs and maneuver around the sad, defeated-looking bookcase and to the nearest bathroom, quickly washing it out and finding a splinter. Rodrick stands in the doorway, and I glance over. "Bro. Heffley. Get me a band-aid."

* * *

hope you like it so far. please review & stuff.


	3. Bands and Record Stores

One rock. Another. They bounce off her window dully. I throw a third.

I hear a window opening and I look up, another rock in hand. Aberdeen stares quizzically down at me. "Rodrick, Rodrick. Why the fuck are you throwing rocks at my window, Rodrick." She mimics.

I bow and then look up at her, smirking. I cup my hands around my mouth and ask up towards her, "What's your Wi-Fi password?"

She wipes her eyes and sighs. "It's like, eleven, Rodrick…" She says. She starts to look pissed.

I clasp my hands together and go to my knees. "Please, fair Aberdeen. Thine eyes shine like the moon—"

"It's BillWiTheScienceFi. Capitalize each word. No spaces." She says simply. I can see her faint smile.

"Uh, can you…write that down, please?" I ask her.

"Oh my God…" she complains, starting to turn away.

"Sorry—I just need it to get on…Tumblr." I pause. "My parents like…yeah. No Wi-Fi."

She stops and turns back to the window, leaning out. She raises an eyebrow. "…Okay. I can relate to that. One sec."

As I'm waiting I wrap my jacket tighter around me and pull my beanie down more. I smile to myself, looking down at the ground. _She's pretty entertaining._

A paper airplane hits the ground in front of me and I hear Aberdeen close her window. I glance up after picking up the piece of paper and unfolding it. When I look down again I find her Wi-Fi password and something else. "_im-sleeping-on-the-balcony-after-class". Must be her Tumblr username._

* * *

_"Hey Aberdeen. It's Rodrick. What's up?"_

I stare at the message in my Tumblr Inbox and smile. My fingers fly over the keys as I answer to him. His username is "smellslikethatstheonlysongyouknow". _So he likes Nirvana. _

_"Nice username. I'm supposed to be in bed right now. You woke me up and I couldn't sleep."_

He answers I swear three seconds later. "_I know. You like Nirvana, right? And sorry."_

_ "Yeah, I do. No problem."_ I can't think of anything else to say, so I just press send and hope he answers back.

_"What other bands do you like that you think I would? Who sung the song that I asked about yesterday?"_

_ Yesterday? _I look to my clock. It's 12:01. So that's the time. I'm not surprised. _"It was the Arctic Monkeys. Look them up, they're really good. Here's a list of bands I know that you might like:_

_ The Vaccines, Band of Skulls, The Black Keys, Jimmy Eat World, Modest Mouse, Muse, Spoon, The Strokes, Vampire Weekend, The XX, Yeah Yeah Yeahs"_

I scroll down the "disposable" tag of Tumblr as I wait for his reply.

"_I know Jimmy Eat World and Muse and Spoon. Do you know Cage The Elephant or The Airborne Toxic Event?"_

_ "Totally! I didn't think you'd know them, they're more indie rock. I see you as more of a rock or hard rock person."_

_ "Huh. I don't really like hard rock, but I do like old rock. Which one do you like the most out of that list?"_

_ "Uh, now? probably the Vaccines. Overall, probably between Vampire Weekend and The Vaccines and Band of Skulls and The Black Keys."_

_ "Jeez, make up your mind."_

_ "I do what I want."_

I freeze after I click "send". _Did I really say "I do what I want"? Oh my god. He's going to think im a complete dork. _

_ "No regrets?" _He says back as if it's nothing.

_"I REGRET NOTHING._"

_"Good. Life's fucking wasted by regretting things."_

_ "I agree. Hey, would you want to take me to that record store tomorrow? Just message me when you get up."_

I worry what I've said has scared him off, but then he answers back, _"Sure."_

I smile to myself. _"We should get to bed. Night, Heffley."_

_ "Night, Cohen."_

* * *

The next day I hear my doorbell ring. I slowly open my eyes, greeted by my clock. 12:01. I slowly drag myself out of bed, remembering I'm alone today because my parents both have job interviews. I shuffle down the stairs to my room, down the hallway, down the stairs to my living room, going across the living room, and opening the door.

There stands Rodrick. Now I'm awake.

"Oh, sorry. You just didn't answer my tumblr message and…" he shrugs, hands in pockets.

I slap my forehead. "I was asleep. I'm sorry."

He waves his hand, pulling it from his pocket. "It's okay. I'll just wait or whatever. Go get ready."

I look at him with a slightly perplexed look. "…Okay." I smile, taking a step back. "Get in my house then, weirdo."

He walks in and I point to the kitchen. "You can wait in the kitchen. Grab whatever you want to eat. There's still some boxes though, so be careful."

"Why should I be caref—" I look over when he stop talking to see his head just disappear underneath the counter through the wall between the kitchen and the living room.

I giggle and peek over the counter. "That's why. You okay?"

Rodrick quickly gets up and straightens himself out like nothing happened. "Yup." He says, the reply fast and clipped.

* * *

yeah. this is sort of a quick chapter, but the next ones might be a little longer. please review & stuff! (:


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